


release the tension

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt tilted his head to the side. “Or man,” he said because he could be a masochist, given the right situation. Jaskier paused, blinking at him owlishly.“Excuse me?” he asked, and Geralt almost-smiled.“I didn’t perceive you to be the judgmental type,” he replied blandly, and Jaskier visibly startled.“I’m not—I mean,” Jaskier cleared his throat, curling his hands together in front of him. He looked silly, all rigid shoulders and tightly-pursed lips. “Actually, that just makes my next suggestion even better.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 162





	release the tension

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of fics to write this month (rip me) so have the first chap of this lil story ive been working on; will update between working on these other fics
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

“ _Closed?”_ Jaskier repeated in disbelief. “Is this some kind of cruel joke?”

The bawd—an older woman that kept glancing over at Geralt with disdain, eyes dark and distrustful—shrugged. “Sorry, sir, but our whores are all on vacation,” he said, and he knew she was lying by the way her heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t care to argue with her, not the way Jaskier did.

“Right, of course,” Jaskier said with a too-bright smile. “Well, when will they be back?”

It was a pointless question, as they would be out of town by the morning after next and surely their _vacation_ —a lazy lie, if you asked him—would not be over by then.

“A week,” she said after a long pause, and bit back a smile when Jaskier cursed under his breath.

He glared at her, fire in his eyes. “You are a terrible person,” he said, blunt, and Geralt had to bite back a smile of his own. Jaskier could be so _ridiculous._ “Come, Geralt,” he said loftily as he turned away. “We will take care of our own needs.”

Geralt blinked once at the implication of the words, sensing the bawd’s distrustful eyes on him, before following him out of the brothel. Jaskier was already down the steps, standing in the road with crossed arms. When he joined him, Jaskier glanced over and softened a little; Geralt felt exposed under his gaze, like he always did, like somehow this simple bard could see right through him, through all the walls he had spent so long building for his own protection and others.

“She was lying,” he said, and Geralt let out a huff, almost a laugh.

“I know,” he said, tilting his head.

Jaskier nodded. “Right,” he said, looking away. “It isn’t fair,” he continued as he slowly began to walk back toward the inn. Geralt followed him, matching his stride. “I have tried so hard to show the _real_ you to these people and yet some of them just—they keep treating you like _that_.” He sounded unexpectedly angry on his behalf, and Geralt almost watched to reach for him, nudge their shoulders or something else. But he didn’t, because that wasn’t a thing he did. “Depriving a man of his natural urges is simply a new low,” he said once they had reached the inn.

Geralt did laugh at that, unable to hold back, a low rumble that ended as quickly as it had started.

“I am fairly certain I can survive a few more nights on my own,” he assured him, and Jaskier side-eyed him, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Geralt pointedly tore his eyes away from his mouth. “Before you, I spent most nights on my own,” he continued. He had visited brothels, occasionally, but not nearly as often as he did now.

Jaskier was silent for a long moment; Geralt could hear the clatter of dishes and muted conversation from inside the inn.

“You did,” he said, “but not because you wanted to, because you thought you should.”

Geralt’s head snapped toward him, not expecting that. Jaskier was watching him. He couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking based on his expression, tight and contemplative. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly.

Jaskier shook his head and looked away, opening the door without a word. Geralt frowned, stuck on the words all night, through supper and through Jaskier’s performance. Jaskier was his usual self as he sung for the crowd of the tavern, bright-eyed and grinning, but his face fell again as soon as they were back in their room.

Not sad, no, or even angry, but contemplative, like he was deep in thought.

Geralt knew he would be like this all night if he didn’t say something. “Jaskier,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. Jaskier was still by the door, biting his bottom lip and staring at nothing. He startled at his name, looking over at him. “What is going on?”

Jaskier smiled slightly, a little forced, even Geralt could see that, especially after traveling with him for so long. “I was just… thinking,” he said slowly.

“I could tell,” he said dryly, and for once Jaskier didn’t have a snappy reply, just continued:

“This is hardly your first time being kicked out of a brothel,” he said, spoken as a fact, and he was right. Geralt had been kicked out of more brothels than he’d been accepted at, and he was frankly used to it. “It is unfair,” he said, a repeat of earlier. “You can be—a little rough around the edges,” he said, and that almost earned him a snort. “But you would never treat a woman with disrespect—”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “Or man,” he said because he could be a masochist, given the right situation. Jaskier paused, blinking at him owlishly.

“Excuse me?” he asked, and Geralt almost-smiled.

“I didn’t perceive you to be the _judgmental_ type,” he replied blandly, and Jaskier visibly startled.

“I’m not—I mean,” Jaskier cleared his throat, curling his hands together in front of him. He looked silly, all rigid shoulders and tightly-pursed lips. “Actually, that just makes my next suggestion even better.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Jaskier smiled a little. He looked perfectly calm, but Geralt knew better: he could hear the beat of his heart, fast and irregular. He was a ball of nerves. “We could take care of each other,” he said, “when a brothel isn’t an option.”

The suggestion settled, heavy, in the air between them. Geralt was certain he had misheard him at first, but one look at the bard’s face, tight and nervous, and he knew he hadn’t. He had really suggested they fuck each other. Or at least touch each other.

Suddenly he felt like a child again, a time he barely had memories of. He knew if he could still blush, he would be bright red.

“You like men,” Geralt said, not really a question, the obvious conclusion.

Jaskier nodded, looking almost shy. He had never looked shy a day in his life, not since Geralt had met him. He wondered what that meant, for him, for both of them. “It wouldn’t have to be a—a _thing_ ,” he said, a little too fast. “Just to relax every once in a while, you know. Isn’t that why you go to brothels, really?”

He was right, because he knew him too well. Geralt enjoyed sex, undoubtedly, but he enjoyed the sleep after more. Resting was hard for him most nights and a good round of sex was always guaranteed to put him under for a few hours.

“You realize what you are offering?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Jaskier looked at him, finally, his gaze steady. “Having sex with you, Geralt, would hardly be a _chore_.”

He fought back a smile. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, and Jaskier rolled his eyes as he approached the bed—approached _Geralt_ , stopping right in front of him. Geralt moved without having to think about it, his body reacting instinctively to the closeness of another person—a person he, admittedly, found easy on the eyes. Legs parted, Jaskier shuffled closer to stand between them.

“It would be beneficial,” Jaskier said, quieter, “for both of us; you wouldn’t have to worry about being kicked out, and we would both save money.”

Geralt stared up at him. “You’re serious about this,” he said, not quite believing it.

Jaskier shrugged, looking the most— _insecure_ he had ever seen him, but still brave and stubborn, _always_ brave and stubborn. “Beneficial for both of us,” he repeated before reaching up, placing his hands on Geralt’s broad shoulders. “We have nothing to lose,” he added, and—well, Geralt had to disagree. He had a lot to lose if you asked him, like the one person who chose him, again and again, not drawn by fate or anything equally as out of their grasps but pure _choice_.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, and Jaskier smiled slightly before leaning down, pausing just before their lips met. Geralt could smell him, grass and honey and something else that was distinctively _him_.

Jaskier waited, staring into his eyes, a silent challenge. Geralt _hmm_ ed, debating what to do as if he had any choice at all with Jaskier’s lips, pink and a little wet, _right there_ , waiting to be kissed. He felt out of control, and he didn’t like it, the way his body kept moving without his permission. He pressed forward, barely an inch, their lips brushing lightly.

He felt the curl of Jaskier’s mouth as he smiled, hands sliding up his neck and resting there, warm and confident. Geralt should’ve pushed him away, and he would have if he was smart, but Jaskier wasn’t entirely wrong: it _had_ been a while since he last had a bed partner and just the press of Jaskier between his legs had his cock embarrassingly hard.

“I wonder,” Jaskier breathed against his lips, “what are you like in bed, hmm?”

Geralt grunted in reply, chasing his mouth; Jaskier, the bastard, turned his head away at the last second.

“Are you as rough as you are in every other aspect of life?” he asked, sultry and low, and _fuck_ , Geralt’s cock twitched with interest. When he wasn’t being fucking annoying, Jaskier’s voice actually kind of did things for him, who knew. Jaskier ducked down and buried his face in the warm crook of his neck, nipping at the skin. “I can only hope,” he whispered, and the last of his sanity just snapped, gone like it was never there.

Geralt grabbed his hips and flipped them over with little effort. Jaskier settled with a huff, cheeks flushed and eyes dark.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he said with a coy grin, and Geralt growled, slamming their lips together, teeth clanking. It was painful, and unfairly _hot,_ the way Jaskier just went with it, tugging Geralt’s shirt out of his trousers and pushing his hands under it, hot skin against hot skin.

Once they were both naked, finally, Geralt found himself having to pull back and just take a moment. He had seen Jaskier naked a few times, of course, over the course of their companionship, but only in brief spurts and he had never been able—or allowed—to just _take in the view._

Jaskier was thin, but not overtly skinny, with lean muscles, a tight stomach and surprisingly strong thighs. Geralt ran his hands up and down his body, over the dark hair peppering his chest and then down his stomach to the trail of hair, just as dark, that led down to his cock.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me,” Jaskier said, an odd tilt to his voice.

Geralt looked up, took in the look on his face, tight and unsure. “I know,” he said gruffly. “Shut up,” he added after a beat, and Jaskier smiled slightly, relaxing.

“Well, I suppose I _do_ have a body worth worshiping,” he remarked loftily, and Geralt suddenly grabbed his cock, smirking when Jaskier gasped loudly, eyes widening.

“Shut up,” he repeated, and Jaskier nodded quickly, biting his bottom lip.

He had always wondered how to shut the bard up, and he supposed he finally had the answer.


End file.
